


In The Dark (You Are The Light)

by lavachick85



Series: How Darcy Met Bucky [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Darcy Lewis Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, HYDRA are assholes, He feels bad about it though, Heart-to-Heart, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lots of Angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavachick85/pseuds/lavachick85
Summary: He seemed perfectly content to potter along at their current pace, hold her hand and stroke her back when she fell asleep against him despite the fact that they had been quasi-dating for going on three months. He was a gentleman. A complete and utter gentleman but she had an inkling that he was fucking oblivious to the fact that she was desperate to defile him; right there in the middle of the kitchen table in front of the entire team. She wanted to undress him with her teeth. Her teeth, damn it. God.OrWhen Steve pokes fun at Darcy and Bucky's relationship and makes a joke in poor taste, Bucky doesn't respond the way he'd expected. An awful revelation is made and Bucky flees. Steve is devastated, Darcy cries and Bucky, well, Bucky isn't saying a whole lot to either of them...Darcy, unsure how to proceed from here, makes a phone call to someone special who helps her work some things out.





	In The Dark (You Are The Light)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I've been completely blown away by the reaction to this series and I cannot thank you all enough for your support so far!! Much love and hugs to all!
> 
> This one starts off a bit silly, gets a little dark 'round about the middle but smooths back out towards the end. There is mention of non-con elements and a completely blatant disregard for consent which may be triggering for some people - I hope it wont cause any setbacks for anyone but just in case, i'm going to say it again...
> 
> THIS FIC CONTAINS NON-CON!
> 
> It's not graphic, but it's there. Please don't hate me.
> 
> Also, we introduce a new character this time and I'm hoping you all like her! She was super fun to write!

“I can’t actually tell if you’re being serious right now.”

Darcy smirked to herself as she snapped a piece of caramel coated popcorn out of the air with her teeth and chewed as loudly and obnoxiously as she possibly could. And boy, was it possible. She didn’t even bother to mask her cackle of amusement at the sight of her boyfriend’s – was he even her boyfriend? Hmm. Maybe, maybe not. All she knew was that he had a deep, unmoving thing for her hair and liked to run his fingers across the bridge of her nose, touch her mouth and swipe his big, callused thumbs across the lines of her eyebrows right before he kissed her so senseless that she couldn’t find her way up and her body was a thrumming mess of heat and… Ahem. Anyway. Boyfriend (?). Bucky. Her Bucky.

He was watching her with a look that screamed both disgust and confusion and just a little bit of intrigue as she chomped loudly on the crispy shell of her popcorn, mouth open so he’d get the occasional flash of masticated snack food rolling around on her tongue. He made a sound in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes when she merely quirked an eyebrow at him and shoved more popcorn past her lips.

“Oh, I’m totally serious,” She kicked her heels up into his lap and wriggled lower into the cushions, blew him an exaggerated kiss when his thumb automatically dug into the sore, swollen part of her foot. She’d been on her feet all week and _Jesus fuck_ was he good with his fingers. Not that she’d know that or anything, because there had been no funny business of the kind whatsoever. At all. Strictly over the clothes for them and even that was pushing it. At this point she was almost certain she was going to combust into glorious, crackling flames the next time she felt his big hands circle her waist and squeeze just so as he pressed stupid, frustrating, _perfect_ kisses to her face… She wondered if he would be able to just lift her off her feet like that, pick her up with his hands ‘round the smallest part of her waist so she could wrap herself around him. She knew he was stronger than the average man, perhaps even Steve himself, but she’d never been privy to how much weight he could bench press or anything, so (the party pooper refused to let her ogle him in the gym whilst he was working out, called her distracting. _Distracting._ So insulted.). There was just something about a guy who was physically capable, strong enough to manhandle her without wanting to hurt her in the process, that turned her insides to mush. He seemed perfectly content to potter along at their current pace, hold her hand and stroke her back when she fell asleep against him despite the fact that they had been quasi-dating for going on three months. He was a gentleman. A complete and utter gentleman but she had an inkling that he was fucking oblivious to the fact that she was desperate to defile him; right there in the middle of the kitchen table in front of the entire team. She wanted to undress him with her teeth. Her teeth, damn it. God.

She knew that Bucky’s eyes followed the wash of pink as it swept across her cheeks and she bit back a moan of pleasure as his clever fingers stroked and kneaded the arch of her foot. _No_. No, she would _not_ think of those clever hands with those strong, thick fingers and she would _not_ moan like a wanton woman who hadn’t been touched in a less than appropriate way by someone other than herself in almost a year…

Fuck.

_A year_.

_Don’t think of him naked, don’t think of him naked, don’t think of him naked… Oh God_ , she thought as a flash of his golden skinned shoulders flashed through her minds eye, she was thinking about him naked. She hadn’t seen it all in person, but her imagination was more than willing to participate in a little bit of shameless daydreaming.

She blinked rapidly and squirmed with discomfort as heat pooled between her thighs, her shirt suddenly too tight and chafing her skin everywhere it touched. “Where was I, again?”

_Swallow, Darcy. Don’t choke on your tongue, Darcy._

He smiled at her and smoothed his fingers up around her ankle, palm cupped around the delicate joint. “Panda bears aren’t actually real and they’re actually a concept created by the Chinese government to generate revenue.” He reminded her easily. “Oh, and don’t forget the fact that they’re all just elaborate robots designed to trick us into thinking they’re a real, live, breathing animal.” His smile was blinding and Darcy felt a little more warmth unfurl in her little black heart. God, he was turning her into such a sap. That beautiful, irritating, perfect bastard.

She pushed all wanton thoughts aside (mostly, sort of?) and struggled upright, her feet falling to the floor so she could face him as she argued her point. “No, no. Think about it! When in your life have you actually seen a living breathing panda bear in person? And I’m not talking about those videos on youtube that you watch late at night when you can’t sleep that you think I don’t know about, Sugar Plum.”

Bucky’s mouth spat out a date and she recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “Wait. _What?!_ When were you actually in China long enough to see a fucking panda?”

He rolled his eyes and tried not to smile at her. “Nineteen seventy three, Darce. Was there for a mission. Saw a couple then.”

She mouthed his words back at him and scrunched up her nose like all she could smell was rotten, fishy garbage. “That’s _bullshit_.” She insisted, completely and utterly ignoring his snort of laughter. “Were they in a zoo? I’ll bet they were in a zoo.”

He looked at her, his smile dropping a little on one side, confused. “Yeah, it was in a zoo. What does that have to do with anything?”

She let out a cry of victory. “Aha! See! What you saw in that rinky-dink little Chinese zoo in nineteen seventy three was a robot, Bucky. An honest to God _robot_! There are no flesh and blood panda bears left in the world and it’s all an elaborately concocted conspiracy that the Chinese government have cooked up to fool the general public into believing that they’re real!”

She was so wrapped up in her ranting that she didn’t hear the apartment door swing open behind her and the snort of derision that came from her asshole adopted brother until he was practically on top of them. She threw one of the smaller cushions at the back of his head once she finally managed haul herself off the floor and pouted when it missed and knocked something clear off the sideboard instead.

Fuck, her aim was shitful.

“Jesus,” he pushed past them and headed straight for the fridge, shirt clinging to his back from sweat from his early morning run. “Tell me she’s not on her high horse about fucking pandas again, Buck… Tell me you didn’t open that can of worms.” He looked down at them as he chugged half a bottle of water and turned his gaze on his best friend, eyes full of false sympathy and sadness. “Buck, that sort of fuckwittery is not worth any amount of mind blowing sex in the world. You’re worth more than that, pal.”

The smile fell off Bucky’s face and his cheeks turned a ruddy pink, words tumbling out in a mortified stuttering mess. “I didn’t.. I don’t.. We haven’t… I mean that it’s not..” He closed his mouth with a snap and he shot a withering glare at Steve. “Don’t be so fucking crass, Steven Grant. And no, I’m really not.”

Steve’s eyes flitted between Bucky, who looked completely and utterly done with this conversation and ready to shove himself under a giant flaming boulder, and then to Darcy who had two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose and a pained yet slightly embarrassed look on her face and he blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“ _Oh_.” He murmured. “Oh, I thought,” he squinted at the pair and his lip curled up in confusion. “What in the blue hell, guys? Why _not?_!”

Darcy choked on a little bit of saliva and felt her face burning. Were they really about to have this conversation? Honestly??

Bucky stared resolutely at the television and his jaw clenched, his teeth audibly grinding together. “We’re not having this conversation, Steve and it’s none of your goddamned business.”

Steve, not one to be deterred so easily, snorted and threw his water bottle at the back of Bucky’s head. It bounced off his skull with a slosh and a crack before thudding to the floor. “Oh, I really think we are,” he barked. “What the hell is wrong with you, Buck? Darcy’s fucking beautiful (she cooed at him, somewhat embarrassed but genuinely touched by his observation) and she’s definitely willing (hello, face full of fire), so what gives?” He gave him a cursory once over and frowned. “Everything still works, don’t it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched tighter and she could see the line of his shoulders tense, his breathing settle into something she’d come to recognize as a coping mechanism when things got too much and he couldn’t quite get a hold of his temper (it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it happened sometimes) and she suddenly had a bad feeling about how this was progressing. She tried to interrupt but the two super soldiers didn’t or couldn’t hear her and she was horrified when she found herself as an unwilling spectator to this monumental fuck-up of a conversation.

Argument.

Whatever.

“Everythin’ works fine.” He ground out, fingers curling into a tight fist against his left thigh.

Steve steamrolled on. “Then what is the actual problem, here? It’s not like I haven’t seen you lookin’.” He sounded mystified, confused beyond belief and concerned at the same time. “Bucky…”

The shift was immediate, Bucky’s snarl turning feral and eyes blazing as he rounded on his best friend and brother in everything other than blood. “Because she doesn’t _want_ me like that!” He spat furiously, the mere presence of him, the hint of who he’d been forced to be for so many years, bleeding into his body and taking over as he stalked closer. “She _doesn’t_ and I don’t blame her for it! I’m not about to force myself on her just because you think we should be fucking like rabbits. No means no, Steve and I’m not about to put her through shit that _I know_ you don’t recover from!” He lost a little of his bluster and his chest was heaving, face flushed with anger and shame. His hands were shaking. “If stealin’ a kiss is all I can get…”

Darcy felt like she’d been sideswiped by an eighteen wheeler and had been left bleeding and broken in the road.

He thought she didn’t _want_ him?? Had she been so remiss in her affections that she’d given him the wrong impression? She thought she’d been clear, blatantly obvious even about how she felt about him (there was only so many times you could eye-fuck someone before you got caught) and she thought that he knew. Knew how he affected her both mentally and physically, how he turned her inside out and upside down every time he touched her and how she spent hours upon hours in the lab daydreaming about how he’d feel in her hands, how his weight would feel as it pressed her into the bed… She’d thought they were on the same page but that he just wasn’t quite ready to fall into bed with her yet, not that things weren’t progressing because he thought she didn’t want to.

Fuck, she’d been so goddamned blinkered. Also, hello _‘Bucky’s painful revelation of the week’_.

They’d hurt him in so many ways but she’d never stopped to think that – that they… _Oh dear God_.

Consent was a legitimate thing and apparently, HYDRA _just didn’t care_.

She looked up to the standoff that was happening in front of her and tried to smudge away the feeling of sickness in her belly, the way it twisted and pulled painfully at the look of complete devastation on Steve’s face but the more she looked, the harder it got. Bucky had gone painfully blank and Steve was trying to visibly swallow past the lump in his throat, his skin pale and upset.

“Bucky,” he tried but the darker man merely spun on his heel and disappeared down the hall into his bedroom, the door slamming shut with a crack behind him.

Darcy buried her fingers in her hair and tugged sharply, heaved a sigh and scratched at her eyebrow. “Why did you do that?” Her voice was deceptively quiet and she was suddenly very tired. “He isn’t the same old Bucky that you can poke and prod and pick on… Why did you have to push like that, Steve?”

He looked down at her, face uncomfortable and distressed with the knowledge that he’d caused this, that Bucky’s meltdown was his fault.

“I didn’t mean,” he looked up at the ceiling, his hands resting on his hips. “I honestly thought you guys had..” His brow furrowed and he rounded on her. “Is it true? Do you _not_ want him?”

She let out a humourless, dry laugh and slapped her hands onto her thighs. “ _Don’t I want him?! Don’t I…_ Steven, it will be a cold day in hell when I don’t want that man.” She snorted to herself and shook her head, her hair falling into her face to hide it and how she felt right now. “I thought I’d made it perfectly clear but apparently I was wrong. So fucking wrong. Do you have any idea how many cold showers I’ve taken in the past three months? How many times I’ve had to smother myself in my pillow and jam my hand between my legs because I’m wearing a shirt of his that I’ve borrowed and I can smell him on it?” She let out a shaky laugh and looked up at him with sad, wet eyes. “I guess I haven’t been forward enough. I just didn’t want to scare him off, you know?” She sniffed into her sleeve and felt him come sit next to her, his thick arm curl around her shoulder as she started to snivel. “He means _so much_ , Steve. So fucking much. _I’ve_ been waiting for _him_.”

 He dotted a kiss to the top of her head and rocked her a little. “I’ll talk to him.”

“ _No.”_ She sniffled loudly, dragging every ounce of composure she still had together and scrubbed at her face with the cuff of her sleeve. “I’ll do it. I think you’ve done enough for today.”

She didn’t have to look at him to know that she’d hurt his feelings but at that precise point in time she didn’t give a shit. It needed to be said. God, he could be an unintentional asshole sometimes.

Eventually he let out a deep, bone weary sigh. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “I think you’re right.” He unwrapped his arm from around her and collected his water bottle from where it had landed on the floor and headed for the door. “Let me know when I can come back,” he opened the apartment door quietly, mood flat and disappointed in himself. “I’ll shower in the locker room.”

Darcy slipped from the sofa once she was sure he was actually gone and headed for Bucky’s room, gut twisting and turning as she tried the handle. The door swung open and she took a tentative step inside. The air inside was cool and the room was dark, the blinds drawn tightly closed to block out the early morning sun and she was hit with the scent of him, his deodorant and the smell of his woodsy soap, the slightest taint of gun oil as she fumbled her way along the wall towards his bed. He didn’t like bright lights, preferred to sleep in pitch black darkness but there was only so much a set of blinds could do during a bright and sunny New York morning and there was a shard of pale light that cut across the carpet and hit the edge of the bed. “… Bucky?” She could hear the harsh rattle of his breath coming from somewhere off to her left and she stopped for a moment before sinking to her knees and crawling closer, one hand outstretched in the dark until she could make out the darker silhouette of him against the wall. She sat back on her heels and dug her fingers into the plush carpet in front of her before she opened her mouth.

“Did you ever,” she squinted into the dark, tried to make out more than his dark, unmoving shape but gave up after a moment and forged on. “Did you know that I can’t think straight when you touch me? When you put your hands on me, my waist, my hip, the side of my neck or my cheek… Fuck, Bucky, I _do_ want you. I want you so much that it hurts and when you kiss me I forget how to breathe and my skin feels three sizes too tight and I just. Can’t. Think.” Her soft laugh was embarrassed and she stroked her hands across the carpet absently, chin touching her chest. “When you’re not there, doesn’t matter where I am, I’m thinking about you. How you look when you smile down at me, the way you feel against me when we’re curled up watching stupid cartoons and how you smell so fucking good that I could just bury my face in your neck and stay there forever, even if you’re all sweaty from the gym and you haven’t showered… God, it’s even better when you’re all sweaty which is probably weird and all but I just can’t seem to get enough of you and…” She swallowed and closed her eyes. She felt so fucking vulnerable right now and his silence wasn’t helping one bit. She wondered what was going on in his head, if he was even listening to her ramble and embarrass herself with all of her inner-most thoughts about him.

God, she was an idiot.

“I’ll,” she pushed herself to her feet and backed towards the door, “I’ll leave you alone now. I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m…” she broke off, humiliated. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart was in her stomach and she felt sick. Well, that was that, then.

 

**

Darcy woke with a start, her eyes scanning the room for whatever it was that disturbed her slumber and she fumbled for her glasses on the nightstand, fingers brushing the cool wood as she felt for the heavy plastic frames. In the process she knocked down the glass of water that she’d put there before bed, right after she’d taken three aspirin for the migraine from hell and she’d crawled underneath the covers, her head heavy and aching from crying all afternoon.

Her eyes felt gritty and sore and her stomach ached in a way that she hadn’t felt since her first boyfriend had dumped her the day after Senior Prom. The day after she’d finally given into the hinting and nudging he’d been doing for almost five months and had slept with him. She remembered waking up to his back as he dressed, smiling and calling out good morning only for him to shake his head and tell her that it wasn’t going to work, that he was going to college in Boston and he wasn’t interested in the idea of a long distance relationship. She remembered the hurt and shame and the raging fury when she’d realised he’d been using her for _months_ and she hadn’t even noticed, she’d been so wrapped up in the idea of him, the idea that they were happy together…

_No_ , she thought, _this isn’t the same as last time. It hurts more than that_.

She could make out a shape in the corner, darker than the rest of the room and her throat closed up in panic as she reached for the lamp. “Who’s there?!”

The shape grew closer and formed in the dark and she squinted, her hand held aloft and inches away from turning the light switch on when she recognized her intruder, the impossibly wide set of shoulders and shaggy fall of his hair. He was so close to the bed now that she could smell him, wood and sweat and the warm tang of metal, could make out the rise and fall of his chest in the dim.

“… Bucky?” She sat up properly, blankets puddling at her waist, eyes adjusting to the dark quickly as her confusion set in. “What’re you doing here?”

He made an aborted attempt at speaking, the sound coming out as more of a croak than a word and he moved closer again, his knees pressed to the side of her bed. She startled at the feel of his fingers brushing her cheek, the touch light and hesitant as though he thought she would send him away for even daring to touch her. As if she ever would. She felt for him in the dark, her hand brushing the soft cotton of his shorts before she found his thigh, his warmth leeching through his clothes and into her skin as she rested her palm against the muscle. Sometimes touch grounded him when he was unable to communicate, not enough for the words to come but just enough for him to feel safe.

“C’mere,” she guided him onto the bed next to her and tugged at the blankets, pushing them down and tucking them over him as he curled into her and tugged on her arm until she was laying on her side facing him. Their noses were inches apart on the pillow and she could feel the puff of his breath against her cheek. “… Bucky?” She tried once more, fingers itching to touch him, to feel his heartbeat steady and real under her palm. She curled them into a fist instead and held it against her stomach, careful not to touch him despite her desperate desire to.

His warmth seeped across the bed and despite the weight of their earlier conversation, his presence beside her in her bed was comforting in ways she didn’t dare to think about.

“Were you comin’ back?”

She blinked at the question and pushed her cheek against the warm cotton of her pillow. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to after that shit show.” She admitted, her voice small and just a little bit wary. “I kinda word-vomited all over you. At you, more like. Wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.” _I thought you’d laugh at me._

He hummed and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, thumb slipping across the silky soft length of it like he was committing it to memory. His voice came out as a low rasp in the dark and his nose brushed her cheek. “I always wanna to see you,” his fingers traced the line of her arm, up over her shoulder and across the sweeping length of her collar bone to cup her neck. “Always.”

She didn’t have time to think, no chance to stiffen against him and she gasped into his mouth, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as he slanted his mouth over hers and _took._ She melted into him with a quiet moan, a breathy sigh of relief as he invaded every single one of her senses and blindly groped around in the dark until she felt the small of his back under her hand. She could hear the wet sound of his mouth against hers, felt the slide of his tongue as it slipped into her mouth for a taste and her entire body clenched with need. He’d never kissed her like this, all focused and intent. Normally his kisses were sweetly lazy, warm and comforting whilst still being more than just a little bit frustrating when he pulled away leaving her wanting more of everything, but this. This was more. This was all heat and hands and pulling at her until she was ready to fall apart against him, leaving her shivering and gasping in his arms with her nails digging into his shoulder blade.

“ _Bucky_ ,” she was surprised by the sound of her own voice, throaty and wrecked, “ _More._ ”

He made a choked sound against her mouth, a quiet curse and his face was pressed into the hollow of her throat, chin resting in her cleavage and his breath scalding her skin through her sleep shirt. “I can’t,” he didn’t make an attempt to back away but he sounded winded, voice thick and frustrated. “We can’t. _Shit._ We can’t.” He repeated, untangling his hand from her hip so he could reach up to touch her hair, stroke the back of his knuckles against the apple of her cheek.

Darcy shivered at the tender gesture, her body warm and willing her to press closer, to bite his mouth and make him kiss her again like he’d just done, but she didn’t. She eyed him in the dark, mouth almost watering at the look of unabashed desire on his face, his mouth swollen from kisses and eyes a pale ring of icy blue around the wide black of his pupils. He looked shattered in all the best ways and part of her, insecure teenage her, wondered why he’d pulled away. Why he’d stopped.

“Did I do something you didn’t like?”

He grunted, mouth twisting into a grimace. “Uh, no. No, you didn’t.” His body shifted back a little and he looked off to the side then dragged his eyes back to her face. His breathing was calming itself and he looked a little more coherent, a little less drunk.

She frowned, his fingers still stroking her cheek before moving onto her mouth. His thumb brushed the skin just below her bottom lip and swept across the tender middle of it, the soft skin warm and damp from his kisses.

“Then why…?” She blinked suddenly, her voice failing her as she felt him brush her thigh. Not his leg, or his hand, but…

_Oh_.

Oh _goddamn._

He flushed pink at the look of raw hunger on her face and cleared his throat but managed to maintain eye contact. “It’s not…” He hesitated and bit his lip. “… Proper?”

She swallowed thickly and struggled to get a handle on herself. “Bucky,” she started, brows creased and confused. “Bucky are you,” she felt stupid even thinking it but there was something niggling at her, a little voice that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, Bucky Barnes wasn’t the womanizer that history had painted him to be. “Are you a virgin?”

He sighed, a small huff of embarrassment pushing out of him. “I, no. No, I’m not.” He assured her and a part of her unclenched because shit, that would be a lot of pressure on a girl, for sure. His next admission though rattled her. “It wasn’t the done thing, back when. Doin’ _that_ with a woman,” he stroked her hair and chewed at the corner of his mouth like he did when he was mulling something over in his pretty, pretty head. “-who wasn’t, y’know, your wife. I’m not exactly inexperienced, Darce, I’m just,” he huffed, agitated. “I haven’t had anyone of my own accord, someone who wanted me, since… Well, I know I’ve had sex with women since then ‘cause the files say so, but I don’t remember doin’ it. Not really.”

She stared at him in stunned silence, mind racing. “They had _files_ on it?!” She pulled back a little to look at him, propped herself up on her elbow and put her hand on his chest. His heart was beating in a rapid tattoo but his face didn’t betray any of his panic, his limbs purposely loose and relaxed. She didn’t like it. She hated when he hid from her like that. “What – why – no, I’m gonna go with that one! _Why did they document your sexual encounters?!”_

He looked so uncomfortable that it made her nervous, eyes fixed on somewhere off to her left and his throat worked as he built himself up to speak. “There was talk,” he finally mumbled, “-of, I don’t know, _breeding_ me, maybe? They wanted a second generation that they could...” He cleared his throat and rolled onto his back, knees propped up so the blankets covered him, his face carefully blank. “They wanted a child that they could hone in my image,” his voice was devoid of any emotion and something dark and ugly reared its head. “One that they could use against me in case I broke programming again.”

Darcy slapped a hand over her mouth and swallowed frantically, eyes clamped shut at the thought of a child, _Bucky’s child_ , being used to control him. To manipulate him into complying and keep him in line. A child born just to hurt, maim and destroy. _An innocent fucking child_. She felt the wave of nausea wash over her and she tried to swallow it back down but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t going to work. Shit.

He looked at her, scared and eerily still beside her. “Darce, I...”

“No.” She shook her head and pushed past him, scrambling off the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom. “’m gonna be sick.” She barely made it to the toilet, spitting and cursing as she threw the lid up and lost her dinner. She could feel hands on her neck, her hair being gathered up and loosely tied in a knot before his arm wrapped around her waist and smoothed soothing circles over the swell of her stomach, the muscles tight and sore from throwing up quite so violently. She gagged again but didn’t bring anything up this time and she sagged in his arms, her cheek pillowed on her arm as she rested against the bowl and gasped for breath.

He was solid at her back, warm and comforting but rigid with tension at the same time. He probably thought she was mad at him now, upset and disgusted with what he’d told her he’d done and he was right, she was upset and disgusted but not with him. Never with him. 

“M’sorry, Darce,” he murmured against the back of her head, his forehead pressed against her crown. “I get it if you don’t,” his chest shuddered against her back, “I understand. I’m so sorry.”

She groped blindly behind her and squeezed his hip, her fingers pulling at the hem of his shirt so she could put her hands on his skin, taking comfort from the familiar scarred warmth of him. He tensed against her for a moment, then his weight sagged heavily over her and he made a small sound of dismay into her hair. She palmed the skin over his hip, patting and stroking until she could find her voice.

She almost didn’t want to know the answer to her next question.

“… Was it successful?” He went still against her again and she looked back at him, his face probably just as pale as hers, if not worse. “Did they manage to _breed_ you?” She spat the word out like it was something filthy and vile and offensive. Because it was. It really was. He was a fucking human being, not some animal that they could throw in a cage and force to reproduce for their ugly, foul machinations.

HYDRA were cunts and they deserved to rot in a slow and painful way until there was nothing left of them but bones and dirt.

He shook his head, mouth pulled tight and there was a crease at the corner of his eyes that betrayed his calm. His heart was pounding at her back. “No, it never stuck and the program was shut down. I wasn’t exactly what you’d call complicit – there were chemical stimulants involved that made me… and when I wouldn’t… There were restraints.” He shrugged and tried to sound casual but she could tell it hurt to think about it. She knew that this had to be difficult for him to say out loud and especially to her. She had no illusions about how much he cared for her, maybe she didn’t know the full breadth of his affection but she knew that she was important enough for him to want to tell her these things. These awful, horrible things. “They didn’t really want me,” he explained softly and she didn’t have to even ask; the women. He meant the women. “They just wanted to a part of something bigger, something that could propel them up the food chain. I never hurt them, but… They never wanted _me_.” His sigh was soft and she could feel it against her ear. “Not like you.”

She tried not to picture him being forcibly restrained and pumped full of God knows what so that he would comply with their wishes, so he could be used and hurt in a way that no human being ever should. She had to grab the arm that was wrapped around her waist and breathe slowly to ground herself and remind her that he was free of them now. That they couldn’t hurt him here.

Darcy craned her neck to look back at him, her head brushing his shoulder as they sat there on her bathroom floor and she reached up to touch his face, her fingers stroking and smoothing the lines she saw on his brow. He was visibly worried, concerned that she wouldn’t want him anymore now that she knew his dirty secret. “Stop that,” she scolded gently and shuffled around until she was straddling his lap, her hands on his cheeks, knees digging into the cold tile floor. “I know that face. That’s your _‘I’ve wrecked everything and I need to run far, far away from Darcy before she runs away from me’_ face. Stop it, James.”

He blinked and she could see the wet shine of unshed tears in his eyes but he swallowed and nodded up at her. His hands settled on her hips and he shot her a tiny, feeble smile.

“You didn’t hurt those women, Bucky, did you.”

He opened his mouth in denial, head shaking wildly. “I, no. No!” He rushed. “Never!”

She cupped his cheeks and pressed a firm kiss against his forehead because, ew, vomit breath. “And they were all willing?”

He nodded this time, a little more sure of himself. “They were volunteers,” his mouth twisted in shame. “Some kind of braggin’ rights or somethin’.”

Her lip curled into a sneer and she growled in anger. Her fingers clutched at him tighter and she pulled him closer by his shoulders, arms snaking around his neck so his face was pushed into the crease of her cleavage. He was tense under her hands for a split second before he melted against her and nuzzled closer.

“All of this,” she ran her hand over his head and waved her hand over him, “-is now property of Darcy Anne Lewis.” She flushed bright pink at his jerk, the wild eyed look he gave her. “If you’ll have me, that is, of course. I mean if you’re not, if you don’t want to pursue anything, keep things as they are…” she groaned with embarrassment, “God, you turn me into a rambling mad woman. This is all your fault,” she pouted, “-you and your stupid pretty face and fine as hell ass.”

He huffed a shocked noise into the top of her breast, thumbs tracing her hips. “Jesus, Darce,” he laughed and shook his head a little. His smile was genuine now, small, but honest and genuine and it lit her up inside like the fourth of July. If she could bottle that look, that swelling, joyous feeling that made her warm and gooey and tingly all over, well, she’d be fucking loaded. People would flock to buy her wares from all corners of the globe and she would be rich beyond her wildest dreams… All because of Bucky Barnes and his amazing, incredible smile.

“Darcy Anne Lewis,” he started solemnly, “It would be a privilege to be your property.” He smiled up at her, his eyes nowhere near as dim as they’d been a few minutes ago and glowing with affection. “If you’ll have me, that is.” His cheek dimpled slightly and he fluttered his lashes at her, smile growing at the sound of her giggling.

“Oh my God,” she sniggered and leant in to kiss his brow, “You’re gonna be so much trouble, aren’t you?”

He hummed and pushed his hands up under her shirt, fingers tugging at her bra strap with a cheeky grin until it snapped against her skin. “Probably,” he didn’t sound sorry at all, that ass, “-but you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

The warmth in her belly swelled and pushed into every possible space and crevice inside of her and she carded her fingers into his hair, pulled him back to her breast and rested her chin on the top of his head. She squeezed him tight and nuzzled him, breathing in his scent and warmth as he shuffled them around into a more comfortable position against the wall. She brushed the back of his neck with her fingers and closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions that were whirling inside her.

 “You’re right,” She smiled softly against his head at his happy hum. “I really wouldn’t.”

God. She was so fucked.

 

**

Valeria Darcy Lewis had been a beautiful woman in her youth, all dark hair and full lips, curves for days and a smile that wouldn’t quit. She was a smart woman, a strong, vivacious woman that wouldn’t take no for an answer and grabbed life with both hands and insisted that it bend to her will. She was passionate and had a dry wit that had made her a very popular with the opposite sex, kind and approachable but so wonderfully free that it was almost intimidating. She often had more than one man attempting to woo her at a time back in the day and had suitors that were both cumbersome and unwelcome more often than not. She’d had no time for men though, she was too busy planning her illustrious worldwide domination that she barely even noticed them, in fact.

But then she met her husband to be, Walter and everything she once thought she’d wanted… Well. Valeria Lewis’s priorities had changed. She had actively pursued Walter, poor, shy, barely had two cents to rub together, average Walter and after a whirlwind romance that lasted all of three weeks, they were wed.

People liked to tell Darcy that she was the spitting image of Valeria; her beloved grandmother, in more ways than one. Personally, Darcy couldn’t see it in their personalities, but even she couldn’t deny just how much she looked like her Grams. She had her eyes, the same full lips and the same dark, curling hair and when her Grandpa had lain eyes on her in the hospital on the day Darcy was born he had crossed himself and muttered a foul mouthed expletive about how he’d need to get himself a gun so he could keep the boys away from his lovely wife’s apparent dopple-ganger.

It was one of her mother’s favorite stories to tell; her unshakable father crossing himself hours after her birth because he just knew that this one, his precious only granddaughter, was going to be a firecracker just like her Grams.

Grandpa Walter had unexpectedly passed in his sleep ten years ago, a product of an undiagnosed heart condition and while it had left a gaping maw in her Grams’ chest where her heart should be, Valeria Lewis had soldiered on.

Nowadays, she lived in a retirement village in Oklahoma that was within half an hour’s drive of Darcy’s childhood home, her hair no longer a mass of chestnut curls but now white with age, her face aged and wrinkled in all the most important ways. Lines and creases that showed she’d had a wonderful, fulfilling life. Darcy insisted that she was still beautiful and every time she told her so, Valeria would laugh and pat her cheek, call her a filthy liar and offer her cookies because she was her favorite.

Darcy loved her Grams, so much. Her heart only grew fonder after she’d been introduced to one Steven Grant Rogers at thanksgiving and had unashamedly grabbed his perfect, round ass instead of shaking his outstretched hand. Steve had been mortified.

Currently, Darcy was perched in the middle of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear and a smile ten miles wide crept onto her face as she listened to her Grams’ voice pick up on the other end of the line.

_“Darcy-dove, is that you my girl?”_

She smiled at the use of her childhood nickname and picked at the comforter that was draped over her legs. “Hey, Grams,” she shuffled a little bit, settling against the pillows, “How are you? I’m so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve called, things are so busy and life is an asshole.”

Her Grams hummed in agreement. _“I’ve always thought so too, my girl. Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, Darcy. It’s good to hear your voice, I’ve been wondering when I was going to hear from you.”_

Darcy pushed down the guilt she felt about not being able to contact her more often and she quickly asked how things were going, what she’d been doing with herself and had she had any visitors lately (her brothers were even shittier with contact than she was, the bastards). She made small talk for a little while, told her Grams about some of the more publicly acceptable things that had been going on in the tower lately and was halfway through a story about Jane mistaking a piece of corrugated cardboard for a pop-tart after being awake for thirty-six hours straight when her Grams interrupted her with a firm ‘ _Darcy-dove’_.

_“What’s on your mind, my girl?”_

Darcy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She should have known that she would see right through her farce, that she was sharp enough to tell that there was something bothering her even though there were state lines and miles between them.

“Do you remember my friend Steve, Grams?”                                     

There was an undignified snort on the other end of the line and Darcy couldn’t help but grin. _“Of course I remember your friend Steve, Darcy. How could someone forget a man with an ass like that?”_ She groused. _“Of course I remember your friend, Captain America!”_ There was a beat of silence, then, _“-is that boy alright? He hasn’t gotten himself killed again has he? So reckless.”_ She tutted.

She smirked, rolling her eyes. “No, Grams, he’s still bright as a button and kicking along,” she laughed. “I was wondering, though,” she bit her lip and looked out the bedroom door out of habit, looking to see if Bucky was lurking somewhere in her apartment where he could overhear her conversation, but then she frowned. Bucky wasn’t there. Hell, he wasn’t even in the building. He’d been cleared for active duty and Steve had asked him to accompany him on a mission to an undisclosed location, said that he could use an extra set of eyes. Bucky had reluctantly donned his new uniform, all black tactical gear that was similar to his Winter Soldier gear but not quite the same, close enough though for him to be a shifty, fidgety mountain when he’d boarded the quinjet. He’d kissed her on the mouth, his hand in her hair (the metal one carrying a stupidly elaborate gun case) and sighed against her brow. _I’ll be back before you know it_ , he’d promised, and that had been three days ago. She was trying not to climb the fucking walls and failing dismally. “I was wondering, Grams, what you would know about his best friend, Bucky Barnes?” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “The forties version.”

Her grams had been alive during the war and could remember a good deal of it despite her young age at the time. She’d been a small girl at the time, probably the same age as Bucky’s sister, Becca.

_“Bucky Barnes, huh?”_ She wondered, obviously thinking hard. _“Why the sudden interest in The Howling Commando’s second in command, Darcy-dove? I don’t really know much about it, I’ve certainly heard of him, but I didn’t know him myself.”_ She let out a low whistle. _“The man sure was pretty though. Had a face made for sitting on. Still does, so far as I’ve seen in all the papers.”_

Darcy gasped out a shocked laugh. “Grams!!” She choked on a little bit of saliva, thumping her chest to try to breathe. “Oh my God, Grams, I can’t believe you just said that!”

Her grams made a dismissive sound. _“I’m old, Darcy-dove. Not dead. If I was still young enough and I didn’t love your Grandpa so damned much…”_ she trailed off suggestively and Darcy fought the blush she knew was burning its way up her neck. _“My girl, I would ride that man like a bucking bronco.”_ She snorted to herself and Darcy laughed even harder. _“Ha. Bucking. See what I did there?”_

Darcy giggled manically, her fingers wiping away tears as she struggled to pull in a proper breath. “Shit, Grams, just... Shit.”

_“Why the sudden interest in Tall, Dark and Built-for-sinning?”_

Darcy sobered. It figured, she thought, trust Grams to see right through her. “He’s living here in the tower,” she blurted, “With Steve.”

Valeria made a sound of delight. _“Oh, how wonderful! It’s wonderful that the pair of them still have each other after all that ugliness.”_

Her smile softening at her words, Darcy smoothed her hand across the empty space where Bucky would normally sprawl to watch her braid her hair or do her makeup. There was something intimate about the way he watched her, his gaze sometimes far away and distant as he remembered his mother doing the same thing before a dinner-date with his father.

“I’ve been seeing him, Grams,” she admitted quietly, “There’ve been some issues, but… He’s really wonderful, Grams.” She sighed. “He’s so good to me.”

_“Well of course, he is, Darcy-dove. From everything I ever heard about him when I was younger, despite him being a rascal, he was quite the gentleman.”_ She clicked her tongue. _“Although after everything that poor man has been subjected to I’m sure he’s probably not all that similar to who he was these days. Gross mistreatment, the kind he’s suffered, my girl, it changes a person.”_

Darcy sighed and nodded even though she knew her Grams couldn’t see her. She was painfully relieved that her grandmother wasn’t on the ‘Bucky Barnes is evil and deserves the death penalty’ band-wagon, like a frighteningly high amount of the public were. Or had been, at this rate. His rehabilitation had been long and was ongoing, slow, but people were coming around. They were slowly starting to see what she and everyone else in the building that he interacted with did; Bucky Barnes wasn’t an innocent man, but he was a good one.

“It does,” she admitted, “He struggles a lot, Grams, but things are good. With us.”

Her grandmother’s laugh was wicked and cheeky. _“Have you jumped on that horse then, my girl?”_

She flushed pink. “Grams, no! Stop with the perversion!” She laughed. “It’s, sort of, actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” She cleared her throat and at the quiet hum on the other end of the line, “What was it like to date someone in the forties? I mean, what was acceptable behavior for a couple back then?”

_“Well,”_ Valeria sighed and Darcy could hear the ceramic clink of a tea-cup being set down, _“It wasn’t like it is nowadays, that’s for sure. There were rules, unspoken of course, that you would follow and there was certainly none of this living together before marriage business that you see all over now.”_ She forged on. _“Affection was acceptable, hand holding and stealing a kiss, the occasional bout of heavy petting, but sex was another matter. A woman, socially, couldn’t afford to let a man into her bed like they do now. Not without repercussions. A lot of girls saved themselves for marriage and the men, the decent ones, would only push so far before they took their leave, a quick fumble here and there but no actual sex. A woman’s body was for her husband, not her suitor.”_

Darcy bit her lip and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She hadn’t been taking care of herself since Bucky had fallen radio-silent three days ago and she was letting her nerves get the better of her. Fuck, she really needed a shower.

_“Although,”_ her Grams mused, _“During the war, whilst the men were deployed, all bets were off. There’s a good reason the tag-line for American G.I’s in Europe was ‘Over-paid, Over-sexed and Over here’. I’m certain that they single-handedly kept the French economy going during that whole mess.”_

Darcy frowned. “So, what you’re saying is that Bucky’s old timey sensibilities won’t allow him to sleep with me because we’re not married?”

Soft, sympathetic laughter. _“Oh, Darcy-dove,”_ she cooed, _“He’s refusing to sex you up good and proper, isn’t he?”_ She laughed at Darcy’s groan of dismay. _“Oh, my poor darling girl… How have you not mauled the man, yet?”_

Darcy grumbled good naturedly and rolled her eyes. “God, Grams, shut up.” She threw herself face first into the pillows. They smelled of Bucky’s soap and it made her skin tight. “Christ, Grams, stop laughing! I’m about to set myself on fire, over here!”

Valeria’s laughter died down and her words were gentle, affectionate _. “Darcy-dove, you are more like me than you know. You see what you want and by God, you grab hold of it, but you need to be patient with him. Give him time to adjust. He’ll come around, my girl, I can promise you that much. No man can fend off the affections of a Lewis woman once she’s made up her mind for long.”_

Darcy pushed her hair back and wriggled her way to the edge of the bed. She really, really needed that shower. “I’m bringing him home for thanksgiving,” she told her Grams, “I’d like it if you would meet him?”

Her grandmother huffed a laugh and in that moment, Darcy could smell the soft floral scent of her perfume, could imagine the jasmine and vanilla scented hug she would be getting if they were in person. It was left unsaid, but she knew her grandmother was pleased that she had someone in her life that she felt strongly enough about to bring home. It hadn’t happened in a long time; Rogers didn’t count.

_“Darcy-dove, I would be delighted.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Again... don't hate me!!


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